


Touch-Starved (The Life Saving Procedure Remix)

by navaan



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Naked Cuddling, Remix, Tension, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Steve's hit by a spell that's meant for Tony and he doesn't admit how much it's affecting him. Tony has a solution that might solve more than one problem.





	Touch-Starved (The Life Saving Procedure Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fluffypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Steve/Tony drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535535) by [Fluffypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/pseuds/Fluffypanda). 



> This is a remix of Fluffypanda's ficlet [Touch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535535/chapters/27617400)

“You hate magic now, you think? You like hiding in that armor? Keeping people at arm’s length? Feeling invincible, Iron Man? What if you can’t stand having anything between you and another person’s touch?”

For a moment Wildfire’s smile turns sinister. 

Steve sees her raise her arms, eyes trained on Iron Man and form seeming more demonic by the second. Instinct takes over. He moves.

“Cap!” he hears Tony call, his voice slightly distorted by the armor’s speakers. And the next moment Steve’s hit by whatever the spell is that Witchfire has cooked up for Iron Man. He expects fire - or _something_ terrible. His trusted shield is up, but all he feels is a tingle going through him – and then nothing.

“Cap!? What did you do that for?” Iron Man snaps. “I wear armor for heaven's sake!”

He doesn’t lower his shield as he snaps back: “That’s not resistant against magic – and she was aiming whatever this was _at you and your armor_ specifically. You could say, _thank you_.”

Irritation's evident in his voice. He regrets it immediately because it has no place here. Not mingled with the worry that drove him to take a hit for Tony. But it's still there: the anger and tension. They had argued about a stupid issue that morning. For two weeks Tony had been struggling, concealing it from the Avengers. A saboteur had infiltrated his company, and in the course of a recent explosion, Tony had been hurt. He hadn’t told anyone. 

He didn't tell Steve.

That's the kind of trust they're still rebuilding apparently. Or maybe it's just the way it's always been. Tony has a tendency to try and solve his own problems alone as if accepting help is admitting a weakness.

Iron Man shakes his head. “Alright, thank you, Cap,” he says tensely, but even in the armor, Steve can read Tony like a book and what he sees is real worry. “Are you okay though?”

Suddenly, Steve feels less inclined to bristle and erupt like an angry volcano, he deflates. “I’m okay.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels the tingling sensation return, and his joints ache. It isn’t too bad. It’ll pass. 

“Guys?” Carol says; her blond hair's a wild mess of dust and grime after she’s been thrown into a construction site on too many times, but she's otherwise unharmed. “Magical villain? Over there.” She points. “Getting away?”

“On it,” Steve says and jumps back into the fray. As always that's easier than sorting out the complicated affection he feels for Tony and the frustration that too often comes with it.

He hears Tony say behind him: “Let’s tell the X-Men they can take care of their own messes in the future, okay? Especially the ones that deal with Limbo. This isn’t my area of expertise anyway.” Then Iron Man's repulsors come to life, and he rejoins the fight.

“Let’s get them out of Limbo and tell them,” Jessica Drew drawls into the comms system. “I'm sure they'll be happy to oblige.”

It’s just another day in New York, Steve thinks. “Just another day.”

* * *

By the time they get home, his joints don’t just ache. They’re on _fire_. It’s like a thousand needles are driving themselves into his limbs. Thinking becomes hard, and he excuses himself early from the post-mission meeting, earning a few surprised glances and a shrug from Hawkeye. Carol is taking care of clean-up, Wolverine is the one making sure all X-Men are accounted for, Tony has run off to a meeting or his workshop or god-knows-where. No need for Steve to stay till they’re back to deciding who cleans the communal kitchen on Wednesdays - as he thinks if they’d all just start cleaning up after themselves the problem wouldn’t be _a problem_.

Grumpy thoughts and the burning in his limbs persist. 

He makes it as far as the common room sofa and has to sit down. 

Everything tingles with the unpleasant fire of pain, and the longer he just walks on the worse it gets. He wants out of the uniform, wants to shower. Instead he nearly groans and lies face down on the sofa. 

It’s probably time to tell someone that he’s not feeling okay.

“Just tired,” he says to himself and hopes when he wakes up whatever this is has run its course.

Closing his eyes doesn’t help. He tosses and turns to find a better position. It only gets worse. 

A cool hand settles at his brow, startling him; he nearly knocks the person away with his elbow. But as soon as the touch is gone he groans because the pain comes back with a vengeance.

“Tony?” His eyes meet concerned blue, and Tony sits down at the edge of the big sofa, nudges him a bit to move over.

“You should have called someone if it was this bad.”

“’m fine,” he mumbles through the pain and immediately regrets it. It sounds childish even to his own ears.

“No, you’re not, Steve. The spell’s affecting you. Who knows how badly? I’m calling Stephen or Wanda… or...” He clenches his fists. “You realize this spell was meant for me?”

“I can take it. You were already injured.”

“You do not get to bring that up when you haven’t told anyone you weren’t okay either, Cap.”

“I can take it. I didn’t want you to… suffer.”

Perhaps there’s an apology in there, but Steve’s bad at apologizing and even worse at showing weakness and discomfort. 

That Tony’s looking at him as if he’s going to burst into flame doesn’t help.  
In his mind that brief cool touch from Tony’s fingers is still fresh. It had been a moment of brief relief.

“Let me test something,” Tony whispers; his phone is in his right hand, and with the left, he reaches for Steve’s cheek. “Is that okay?”

Steve moans; the pain lessens as if on cue. “Okay,” he says.

“It’s what Witchfire said about me hiding in my armor. Keeping myself apart,” he said. “I think you need this.”

Tony lets the smartphone fall into the sofa cushions, his second hand brushing against Steve’s other cheek, brushing a caress down to his throat. Tony’s eyes follow the motion and then he self consciously grimaces. “Sorry.” 

Steve only knows he’s feeling better and that - seeing the worry and the nervousness in Tony’s actions is - good, it’s _soothing_ , it’s all the things Steve loves about Tony and that he can’t express other than berating him when he gets hurt and hides away in his stubbornness. When did things get so complicated?

And are they? Now that his face is framed between Tony’s hands like Steve’s about to be kissed?

“Your breathing has calmed down,” Tony points out. “This is helping, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admits and watches Tony’s lips form a relieved smile. “You were really worried.”

“You threw me out of the way. It would have been my fault.”

“My own fault.” He tries to sit up.

“Are we arguing again?” Tony asks and sounds both exasperated and ready for it. His hand slips from Steve’s cheek as they both sit up and Steve _hisses_ as the pain flares up hot and searing.

“Oh, sorry.” Tony puts his hand back. They end up staring at each other like this -- Steve’s face framed by Tony’s hands -- their eyes shining that little bit too brightly that means emotions are ready to unleash a storm. And then Tony speaks the words Steve longs for and fears: “I think you need more.”

“More?”

“More,” Tony repeats, his eyes shining with intent.

Steve tries not to blush with the scrutiny. “Skin to skin contact,” he says, because it has just now come to him, why he feels better, even though the plans still there.

“Let’s get you out of the shirt and I’ll…” Tony proposes and looks for the ridges where Steve’s chain-mail shirt is fastened to the rim of the pants. He has designed so many of Steve’s uniforms that it’s not a huge surprise that he would know how to get Steve out of it.

While Tony lets a hand sink away from Steve’s cheek to follow through with that thought -- undressing, Steve or Tony, someone, both of them - the pain spikes to an intolerable level. 

He needs it to stop and think… needs touch…

He leans in, captures Tony lips with his own. The surprised sound it earns him from Tony is bliss too, like the cold, soothing tingle that drives out the pain with the touch. 

“I think you’re right,” Steve concedes, whispering the words against Tony’s lips, “I need more.”

He tried not to be self-conscious or second-guess. But when he pulls out of the embrace, he sees the pink hue on Tony’s cheeks, knows that color must be mirrored on his own face and leans his face into the crook of Tony’s neck. 

“Things could be so easy if they weren’t always this complicated,” Tony whispers into Steve’s hair with a note of contemplative sadness. The wisdom born from sudden realization settles in Steve’s chest too as he silently agrees. 

But pressing his face to Tony’s neck, smelling his cologne -- it’s not enough. The pain wants to sneak back in. 

“Can I?” Steve asks, and he’s glad his face is hidden because he must be blushing crimson now. He’s tugging at the button of Tony’s neatly pressed white shirt.

“Yeah,” Tony whispers, his voice weak and a little shell-shocked. 

Steve feels better when Tony finally starts tugging at the uniforms fastenings. 

How they get from there to heated kisses and pressing chest to chest down on the sofa, is anyone’s guess. Steve’ll blame the spell and the soothing coolness that’s Tony’s caresses. With Tony pressed up against him, he can think through the pain – but he's too distracted. He sees their shirts on the floor. Tony's fingers have drifted to the band of his uniform pants. 

The tingle Steve feels now has nothing to do with pain or the spell.

He feels his cheeks heat up.

Clearing his throat and withdrawing his fingers, Tony asks: “These too?” 

Steve wants to huff and demand: “More!” He wants to shake his head and remind Tony they haven't even talked about this yet. But Tony's about to sit up; not sure he can take the pain _now_ Steve wraps him in his arms and holds him. “Alright,” he agrees. “Yours too.”

Tony huffs, a soundless chuckle that's a breath against Steve's neck. “Everything to save you.”

He hopes he sounds wry and not just breathless and desperate when he returns: “Thanks.” 

Clumsy with exhaustion, he helps Tony to get them down to their underwear. Tony's grace personified even when he moves around Steve like this, without breaking the touch, letting his own pants fall to the floor. 

“Better now, Cap?”

It is. Their legs are entwined, and Tony has his arms around him now. 

The pain's subsiding. 

“This isn't how I imagined this going,” Steve admits. He means their argument from this morning. 

“I saw myself falling into your lap if ever I got the chance, but not for a life-saving procedure.”

Leaning his brow against Tony's, Steve asks: “Is that what this is?”

“Isn't it?” 

“What if I want more?” 

Tony remains silent for a moment that stretches uncomfortable. 

_He has second thoughts. He doesn't want to..._

“I would have suggested naked snuggling before if I had known,” Tony admits wistfully and presses a kiss to Steve's shoulder.

Steve's eyes are about to fall shut. The day's about to catch up with him, now that he's feeling better can breathe easy, wrapped in Tony's arms. He's about to drift off when he realizes: “We're in the living room.”

“Rest,” Tony whispers. “JARVIS? Seal the living room. Life-saving procedure in progress.”

Finally, he can chuckle. He drifts off to sleep with the next breath, sure Tony will still be there when he wakes up.


End file.
